Discipline
by Gryvon
Summary: Alternate Universe. Roy/Ed. Edward Elric, famous inventor and son of the ruling lord, has been taken captive by Colonel Mustang and his ragtag militia.


He didn't belong here, stuck in a dusty backroom with dirty sheets and no windows. Edward Elric was meant for fine halls and well-lit parlors. He was used to being surrounded by opulence and luxury and people who fought to please him. He was used to servants and grand balls and being on first name basis with royalty. It wasn't that he had a particular fondness for that sort of living, he actually found it rather tiresome, but it was the life he'd been born into. There were no refunds.

The door to his small prison opened and he sat up quickly, eyes narrowing as he recognized his visitor.

Colonel Mustang stared down his nose at Ed. He shut the door firmly and knocked twice on the wood. The sound of the lock sliding into place on the other side of the door echoed through the room.

"Are you ready to cooperate?" The colonel asked smoothly.

Edward glared up at his captor. "No."

Wood scraped across the floor as Mustang dragged a chair over towards Edward's bed. He crossed his legs after he'd sat down and gave Edward a contemplative look. If Ed's hands were free, he would have punched the smug look off the bastard's face.

"You do know that you're not getting out of here until you help us?"

He'd been moved by the militia's plight to a point, but he couldn't fully bring himself to believe what they were saying. He didn't want to believe it, because the repercussions would break him. If what they said were true, then Ed had been kept in the dark about a lot of wrongdoing and he didn't want to think that his family was capable of what they described.

But, there was still the niggling doubt of what if. Colonel Mustang's arguments had been compelling, and taken out of context, Ed could even bring himself to agree with their cause somewhat, but his pride as an Elric and anger over the fact that they'd dared to kidnap him kept him from giving in. People who were in the right shouldn't stoop to kidnapping and coercion. A small part of his brain argued that it was necessary, that there wouldn't have been any other way to get to him.

If they'd sent in anyone other than this smug bastard to deal with him, he probably would have caved by now.

"I'm not going to betray my father." Even if what Mustang had told him was true, and his father was possibly a bigger bastard than Mustang, at least he respected Ed and been kind to him, if distant. Admittedly, it was hard for his father to do anything to annoy Ed when he was hardly ever home, but at least Hohenheim respected Ed's work and praised him for his genius.

Mustang sighed and leaned back in his chair. They'd been through the same argument countless times before and kept rehashing it over and over again, every time they met. He knew what the colonel was going to say next.

"Your father is a bad man." Ed mockingly echoed Mustang's words as he said them, earning a sharp glare.

"Like you're any better?" Ed snorted, going off script because he was tired of hearing the same argument repeated. He was going stir-crazy trapped in this small room, not allowed outside or, worse, not allowed to build anything. His mind was filling with ideas that he wanted to put in practice, but he wasn't allowed to do anything but think. "At least my father doesn't kidnap people."

The colonel coolly raised an eyebrow. "He has. Several of my people - some informants, some financial supports – have been taken from their homes. I imagine they're faring far worse that you are, assuming they're still alive. Your father probably had them tortured for information or threatened to have their families tortured."

Ed felt his resolve wavering, not for the first time. He held his anger before him like a shield. It was all he had left. "You're lying."

"I'm not. I can bring some of their families in to talk to you if you'd like. Maybe you'd be more sympathetic to a child crying about how the evil Lord Hohenheim has stolen her daddy away."

He shifted on the mattress and told himself that he was just adjusting his arms. They ached from being tied behind his back for hours on end.

Mustang leaned forward in his chair. His eyes focused intently on Edward. "Your father tortures his enemies. He's a cruel man, obsessed with power and control and owning the biggest guns and the best weapons."

Edward swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. He'd designed those weapons for his father, and much more. He'd made a lot of things but he'd thought... he'd been told that his inventions were being used to help people. The thought that something he'd made was being used that way... he couldn't allow himself to believe it, not if he wanted to stay sane.

"You're lying," he said again. His voice sounded weak, even to his own ears.

Mustang's temper snapped. "It's true!" He grabbed Ed by the shirt collar and pulled, sending the blonde boy tumbling off the bed. He landed half-sprawled over Mustang's knee. "You're a blind idiot if you can't see what's going on under your nose."

A shiver ran through Ed's body. Mustang had never touched him before, never gotten this angry. No one had ever yelled at him like that before. It was a wholly new and terrifying experience. "I-"

His words were cut off as a hand landed hard against his ass. He squeaked and then flushed in embarrassment.

"Shut up!"

A hand twisted in the back of his shirt, pulling him until he was dangling over Mustang's lap. His head hung over the edge of the chair, his long braid brushing the floor.

"Let me-"

Another sharp slap cut him off. He bit his lip before he could squeak again but some of the sound still made it past his lips. Hands rolled him slightly. He felt hands on the fastenings of his pants and panicked. Mustang grabbed onto his braid and pulled tightly, forcing Ed to arch backwards with a gasp.

"You will hold still."

Mustang's tone cut straight through him. He found himself obeying Mustang's command despite his rising fears. His pants and underwear were pulled down, left tangled loosely around his ankles. The hands repositioned him until he was face down once more, bare ass exposed to the chill air. He trembled in Mustang's lap.

"You are a willful, insolent brat..."

Mustang punctuated his words with a hard slap on Ed's right ass cheek. It stung in a strange way. He wasn't used to pain, particularly not like this.

"But we need you and that fucking brain of yours..."

Another slap, on the other cheek this time. He bit his lip to keep from whimpering. Humiliation and embarrassment ran through his body, making him flush.

"And we need your inventions..."

Mustang was wearing gloves. Leather gloves. They made a hard sound as they hit Ed's flesh.

"And ways to get around your inventions..."

He couldn't hold back a faint cry as Mustang hit him again. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He wasn't going to give in, no matter what Mustang did to him, not matter how much he wanted to.

"And you're going to help us..."

No one had ever spanked him before. None of his caretakers had ever dared to raise a hand against him or his brother, and his parents hadn't been around to administer discipline. Ed had never really been the type to act up, never done anything that truly deserved being punished.

Until now. Until he built machines that he thought were going to save humanity and make people's lives better, but were really just there to destroy and tear down. It was cruel irony. He should have seen it. It was his fault for not seeing it, for being too focused on the glory of inventing to realize what his father was doing.

"Because if you don't, we're all going to die..."

Ed felt his resolve shatter, and with it his control. He only half-swallowed the sob that broke through him as Mustang hit him again.

Mustang's tirade seemed to be over because he stopped talking. His hand continued to fall, smacking leather against his bare skin. It hurt. The pain got worse each time as Mustang hit the same spots again and again. He didn't stop, just kept hitting Ed with the same methodical rhythm.

He couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They ran down his face, dripping from his nose to splatter against the concrete floor. He sobbed loudly, uncontrollably, as Mustang's hand continued to fall. It didn't make Mustang stop.

The room fell away, losing importance in Edward's consciousness. Everything else faded, leaving only the steady beat of Mustang's hand and his own broken cries. His body shook, trembling against Mustang's lap. He'd never felt like this before. No one had ever made him feel like this before, and in that strangeness he felt a bond growing, tying him to Mustang more solidly than any rope or chain could. In the midst of the pain, he noticed something else. There was a fire pooling in his belly, growing stronger with each hit. Underneath the pain and the humiliation he felt something else – pleasure.

Edward blushed as he realized how his body was reacting. He could feel himself getting hard. Soon, the colonel would notice and he didn't think he could live through that.

"S-s-stop." He squirmed, trying to get away, but his feet couldn't find purchase.

One of Mustang's hands grabbed him by the arms, pressing his chest against Mustang's lap. They both froze. Ed realized suddenly that he wasn't the only one who'd had a physical reaction to the spanking.

Mustang's hand let go. Quickly, Ed rolled to the side. His shoulder hit the concrete hard but he ignored it and curled his legs in towards his chest, trying to hide as much of his body as possible. He couldn't stop crying now that he'd started. The physical pain wasn't even that bad any more, fading from a sharp sting to a constant ache, but there was more hurt in him than what Mustang had caused. He felt as if his very soul had been ripped apart, shredded by the truth Mustang had shown him.

He felt fingers skim along his hair and curled in tighter. "D-don't," he sobbed. He couldn't bear the colonel's kindness, not on top of everything else.

The hands didn't go away. They ran down his arms to the rope binding his arms together. Mustang tugged at the rope, freeing Edward. He whimpered as blood flowed back into his arms, though he knew half the pain was only in his head. There was no blood in his robotic arm, but it still pained him as if it were real. His limbs moved woodenly. He raised his prosthetic arm over his head protectively, and the other reached blindly for his pants. His hand shook too badly to get a hold on the fabric.

One of Mustang's hands caught his around the wrist. He moved Edward's hand back towards his chest and released him. A naked palm ran over Ed's bare thigh, running back and forth over the joint where his leg turned from flesh to covered steel.

He flinched and whimpered softly. He didn't want this. He didn't deserve kindness.

The hand ran gently across his skin, almost soothing.

"You've never done this before, have you?"

Ed didn't dignify the question with a response.

The hand moved forward, curling over Edward's hip and settling along the length of his erection. He jerked in surprise and caught Mustang's wrist. Fingers brushed along his erection, sending a shiver through Ed's body. The hand started to move, slowly, closing its fingers around his erection and stroking. Ed's hand stayed on Mustang's wrist but he didn't try to push it away.

"It's okay." Mustang's voice sounded close to his ear. He felt lips brush against his neck. "Shh."

His tears wouldn't stop.

Mustang's hand pulled away. He let it go. He had a brief moment where he both feared and hoped that Mustang might go away. Instead, hands turned him, rolling him so that he faced Mustang again and lifting him up onto Mustang's lap. The colonel had undone his own pants and his erection stood up proudly. It was thicker than Ed's and slightly longer. He briefly wondered what it would feel like inside of him and then shoved that thought out of his brain.

He was slid forward until his knees were on either side of Mustang's own. Ed wrapped his arms around the colonel and buried his face in the colonel's shirt. The fabric soaked up his tears and muffled his continued sobs. It felt good to be pressed against the colonel, better than it had any right to be, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. A hand ran over his ass, making him wince in pain and jerk his hips forward. His erection bumped against Mustang's. He hissed again, and this time pain had nothing to do with it.

The hand came back, wrapping around his erection and pressing it against the hot length of Mustang's cock. He moaned into Mustang's shoulder. A hand on his lower back held him in place, fingers splayed flat against his skin, underneath his shirt, not moving, just holding. It felt strangely comforting, almost protective – two emotions that he'd never before associated with the colonel.

His hips gradually started to move in time with Mustang's hand. The colonel was saying something, speaking softly, but his words were lost as Ed's sobs slowly faded away, replaced by a low series of gasps and pants. The pleasure was almost too much, riding so close behind the recent pain that same hand had given him. Even with Mustang holding him like this, being gentle, he couldn't stop crying. His hands fisted in the back of Mustang's shirt. He pressed himself against the colonel.

The hand on his lower back slid down, brushing against the hand prints on his ass and pressing between his cheeks. A finger pressed against his entrance. Ed squirmed slightly in embarrassment, and then the finger moved, pressing slowly, relentlessly inside. He came with a loud gasp.

He felt dirty and sticky and embarrassed, and far too boneless from release to care about any of those things. Mustang's hand moved away to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. Ed didn't move, not when Mustang pulled both of their pants back up or lifted Ed back onto the bed or pulled the blankets up to tuck Ed in. The colonel looked down at him with a mixture of sadness and loss and pressed a kiss against Ed's forehead. His hands brushed the tears from Ed's cheeks. No more came out to replace them.

"I'm sorry." Mustang's voice sounded pained.

The colonel turned to walk away. For a brief second, he had the strange feeling that the colonel wasn't going to visit him again.

Ed's hand shot out, grabbing Mustang by the sleeve. He half-turned back. Ed kept his gaze fixed on the floor, belatedly realizing that his eyes had settled on a spot near Mustang's chair. There were small circles of moisture left there from his tears. They were slowly fading as he watched.

"I'll help you."

He glanced up, finally daring to look at the colonel. A smile stretched across Mustang's face, unlike any of the other smiles he'd seen before. There was no trace of the colonel's smugness, none of his wry humor. It looked slightly sad.

"Thank you."

He let go of the colonel's sleeve. Mustang knocked on the door, three times, a pause, then once more. He turned to look back at Ed again, but didn't say anything as he walked out the door. It shut behind him but didn't lock.

Edward let out a slow sigh and closed his eyes. He doubted he was going to get any sleep tonight. His mind buzzed with thoughts – his father, his inventions, his colonel. He had a lot of things to think about, a lot to plan.

His ass still hurt, serving as a reminder of what he'd just done.

He felt free.


End file.
